


Payment

by orphan_account



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Guilt, M/M, Mental Coercion, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Lorne approaches Lester immediately after helping him—killing Sam Hess, prompting him to kill his wife, and killing the sheriff—the next day or so, for Lester to "pay up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payment

Lester barely sleeps the night that his world completely changes. All he can hear is that damn broken washing machine whirring in his head, the sounds of buckshot resounding throughout his skull, and the sight and smell of all the blood. There are pools of blood in his basement, in his foyer, and sprayed all across the basement wall—some of if his own. His head still pounds though they told him it was alright for him to go home after being under observation for a couple of days.

Lester had wanted to get home as soon as possible. There were too many cops in the hospital waiting to see if Vern would make it, and then of course they had plenty of questions that Lester did not feel equipped to answer. He thought going home would offer some sort of respite from the hounding, but going home was much, much worse.

Lester held back a gag as he stepped over Vern’s blood, all of which remained of the poor man. And his wife due any day now. It was Vern’s death out of the three murders that bothered him the most. Lester could justify in his mind why Sam and Pearl deserved to die. They were people who enjoyed seeing Lester in pain. They took pride in humiliating and ridiculing him. But Vern? Vern was a family man. A man of the law. He wishes he could take that back.

_What’s done is done._

Lester can’t bear the thought of going into the basement and being on the main floor isn’t much better. Maybe he’ll rest upstairs in bed and see about staying with Chaz and Kitty for a while. A change of scenery might do him some good.

Lester puts his foot on the first stair, left hand on the railing, and looks up at the landing. And suddenly it feels as though he is about to climb a mountain. All he wants to do is lie in his bed for a few hours before having to face the world again, and he doesn’t even think he’ll manage it. But one step becomes two, which slowly becomes three, four, and five. The next thing he knows, he’s standing in front of his bedroom door, looking down at the bottom of the stairs. He made it.

Satisfied, he turns back to the door and opens it, eager to change into pajamas to get the feel of the hospital off his body.

“Good morning, Lester,” says a voice from the bed.

Lester nearly jumps a foot in the air when he looks up and sees who has been sitting on his bed. And reading Pearl’s bed time book by the looks of it. Lorne puts her bookmark back in the place she left it, closes it, and puts it back on her nightstand.

“W-what…What are you doing here?”

Lorne smiles real big and easy.

“You don’t think I work for free, do you?”

Lester gulps. “Ah, no. No, of course not. H-how much…?”

“Oh, I know for a fact that you can’t afford what I charge for two murders in one day without even being asked nicely first.”

The wheels begin turning in Lester’s head as he comes to realize exactly what Lorne means. His eyes widen considerably, and Lorne lets out a pleased noise.

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

Lester purses his lips to keep them from trembling as he shakes his head. He should have known, should have realized from the start, that things would only ever get worse. Lorne Malvo can give, but he can also take away.

“I-I mean, there isn’t anything…?” he trails off, hoping Lorne would fill in the blanks himself.

“Do you have an extra twenty grand laying around?”

Lester sputters, “Twenty. _Twenty_ grand?”

“I’m good at my job, Lester.”

“Yeah. Yup. No, ah, no denying that.”

Lorne looks at Lester expectantly. It’s not like he has all day. He has to meet with that self-absorbed yoga instructor at noon.

Lester looks down at his feet the next time he speaks.

“I’m, ah, not sure what I’m supposed to do,” Lester says, voice hardly more than a whisper.

Lorne swings his legs over the side of the bed until his sitting with his feet resting on the ground. He kicks his shoes off and blatantly spreads his legs. 

“Do you get it now?”

Mutely, Lester nods. He licks his lips as he carefully drops to his knees. By centimeters, he moves forward until he is resting between Lorne’s jean clad thighs. He bows his head in shame. Lorne is quick to hook a finger under his chin, forcing Lester to look at him as he pulls his hand away to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

Lester’s hands clench and unclench as he waits with trepidation for Lorne to pull out his cock. He doesn’t think the two or three blowjobs he gave in college have even remotely prepared him for this moment. But he only makes himself feel more ashamed when nervous tears begin to flow freely from his blue, blue eyes.

“Time to take your medicine, Lester.”

He can’t. He can’t do this. No, it’s-it’s-it’s just too _awful_ to comprehend.

Abruptly, Lorne pinches Lester’s nose closed, forcing him to take a huge breath from his mouth. Lorne sees it as an opportunity to push his hardening dick inside Lester’s mouth. 

The first few thrusts are awkward as Lester’s teeth make an unwelcome appearance.

“Watch your teeth, or you’re not going to have any to watch,” Lorne threatens.

Lester quivers with newfound fear but is careful to keep his lips over his teeth. Saliva flows freely from his opened maw as Lorne pulls his head down in a rhythm that he finds to be satisfying. Honestly, he’s doing Lester a kindness. The blowjob Lester’s giving him isn’t worth $20,000. Normally when clients can’t pay, he fucks them six ways from Sunday. Anal, oral, vaginal, not to mention the kinky shit like whips and ropes and lacy costumes and duct tape. He’s a big fan of pain play, like slicing people up in ways that induce agony and not death, or keeping people on ice for a few hours before fucking them back to a warm temperature. It’s powerful.

It takes more and more dangerous, disturbing, and even deadly displays to get him off. So it’s amusing that a measly blowjob has Lester about to wet his pants like the coward he really is.

He doesn’t warn Lester when he knows he’s about to come. He wants to see that look of shock and awe upon his face when his ejaculate spill from his abused-red lips. He holds Lester’s head down just a little bit longer than he thinks Lester can take, and then he’s bursting down Lester’s throat, coating the inside of his mouth in milky white.

He then lets go of Lester, who promptly pulls back and falls flat on his ass. Lester turns his head and spits—unthinkingly—onto the floor, which should be fun to clean up later. It will go well with the massive bloodstains on the two separate floors of his house. Lorne watches Lester’s display with quiet, satisfied amusement.

Lorne glances at his watch. He’s got about a forty-five minute drive to see Don, and luckily Lester has given him an entire hour. It’s always good to show up for a job early.

“Consider us square, Lester,” he says, tucking himself back into his pants.

Lester looks up at him dumbly from the floor. He looks dazed and confused. Lorne sighs.

“Clean that mess up off you and the floor. Brush your teeth. Shower. Take your pills and sleep. This didn’t happen, Lester. None of it. You had nothing to do with it. Some drifter got into your house, but your bump on the head made you forget anything else. Do you understand me?”

Lester knows this is the only advice Lorne will ever give him, so he rallies the presence of mind to say, “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Lorne replies before rising from the bed and leaving out the back door.

_Was that even real?_

Lester struggles to make his brain comprehend it all. Lester thinks he could sit here on this floor until the grew old and died for all the brain function he’s experiencing right now, but the god awful taste in his mouth spurs him into action. He gargles a third of his mouthwash before he feels remotely clean again and goes about quickly procuring paper towels and wood cleaner.

“Shower” had been his next order, which makes him feel one hundred times better. He feels like he’s got new skin when he’s toweling off. And next came “pills and sleep.” They gave him Vicodin for pain, and it’s been amazing at helping him sleep.

When Lester pulls on his pajamas after taking two Vicodin, he feels like he could sleep for days. And as he’s drifting off to sleep, he remembers that Lorne had sat on this very bed, in this very spot. Lester’s eyes close of their own accord, and he’s not sure if the bitterness on his tongue is from his earlier payment or if it’s the guilt from the washing machine that begins whirring in his head once more.

He falls asleep before he can be sure.


End file.
